Chapter 4 - Stitches
“What the fuck have you done now?” my dad screamed at me as he walked into the emergency room where the Doctor was putting the last stitch in my left arm. He liked to scream a lot it seemed over the last, well hell, my entire life. Luckily I wasn’t crying anymore and my tears had dried, but not so lucky after all, as he immediately saw where my tears had fallen down my cheeks and left a trail.
“Oh, don’t even fucking tell me you have been crying?I thought you were a man. What are you, a little girl? He asked angrily.
“No sir!” I said as firmly as a ten year old kid in severe pain could say.
“Well boy, you better not cry in front of me or you’re going to have a lot more problems than you already have. Now what the fuck were you doing to cause me to have to leave work and come here to deal with this shit?”
“I was just out riding on my bike with the guys and ended up having a bad crash on my bike dad. That’s all?”
“You just had a bad crash on your fucking bike and THAT’S ALL you say?? How many stitches have you had to put in him for this simple bike crash Doc?”
“Well sir, I had to put four stitches in his left knee, three stitches in his left hand, and just finished, let’s see, um, one, two, five, five stitches in his left forearm. I think that’s the last one so it looks like I’m all done here.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck? Goddammit son, you are going to pay this fucking bill out of your mowing money which is now all my money.”
“Yes sir, I understand.” I replied with my head down.
“You’re only ten fucking years old! What the fuck did you crash your bike into, a big pile of broken glass or something?” he asked angrier than before.
Wow, he does have a brain after all I thought, “No sir, it was just a lot of gravel and the concrete.”
The doctor quickly chimed in and said, “Well, these are some of the cleanest and nicest cuts I have ever seen that I have stitched up that were caused from gravel and concrete.”
Thanks doc, I thought to myself as my dad looked at me as his anger was building more and more. I didn’t’ think he could stare with a meaner look, but again, I was wrong.
“Well you just lost your bike forever and if you think you’re not mowing this weekend because of a few fucking stitches you need to think again and toughen up boy.”
The doctor looked apologetic at me. Too late asshole.
I love you too dad, I thought to myself. I hated that bike anyway.
I should have pedaled fucking harder…